Sweet Fluffy Things
by FrozenLakeBeast
Summary: Ivan is concerned over things he shouldn't be. China lets him know this.


**A/N:** So finally lol. This started as a thing for vodka-is-life because she's awesome and super friendly and great. :D This also started a lot more cracky and dumb. And then. It wasn't. I figured it was about time I put this here.

* * *

At 9:54, at the urging of Ivan, Yao (who had a _killer_ headache) went to bed. Ivan, who could not sleep, stayed up two hours more, not doing much of anything. Or, that's what he thought. A glance in the sink suggested that he had, indeed, been doing something - a destructive and not entirely helpful something that he would regret in the morning.

At 11:49, bloated and feeling a bit sick, Ivan fell into bed next to Yao. He instantly regretted it. His slight bounce on the bed and its resulting creak roused Yao just enough to spoon his boyfriend, cuddling into his soft waist and mumble something about losing weight.

Ivan didn't have a pleasant night.

His morning wasn't great, either. Yao, feeling much better and lacking a headache, got up first. He, of course, didn't remember his late-night mumblings, but he _did_ see the dishes in the sink. He paid them no mind and continued on to make breakfast as usual. They were still there by the time Ivan came down to the smell of food and coffee. He sat down at his usual spot, accepted his usual plate of piled high with assorted multicultural breakfast foods, and began to

put

it

back.

Yao froze in fixing a plate for himself as he watched Ivan sit down with little more than coffee. Slowly, he sat down, carefully watching his boyfriend. "Is something wrong?"

Ivan looked up, startled at being caught, and quickly looked back down. "No, ah, no. I'm just not feeling hungry."

Yao tried not to let his shock show. Now he _knew_ something was wrong. "Ivan -", he started, to no response, "Vanya, what's the matter? You can tell me, you know."

Ivan looked at his mug of coffee, his plate of toast and jam, looked everywhere but his Yao, until finally: "Y-Yao, do you -", he took a breath, "do you think I need to lose weight?"

Quick as lightning, Yao was upon Ivan, squatting to eye-level of his seated form, cupping Ivan's face in his hands, forcing him to look at Yao. "_Who told you to do that, aru?!_"

Ivan tried shrinking away away from the sudden intensity of Yao's gaze, but Yao held him steady. Refusing to make eye contact, he shyly said, "W-well, um, you did?"

Letting his hands drop from Ivan's face, Yao stared at Ivan, mouth agape, mind blanking and buzzing in confusing circles all at once. He - _what_? When, why? Why would Yao say such a thing what was going on - ! Once he got his thoughts under control and could form sentences, he asked, "I did?"

Ivan finally looked at Yao - idirectly/i into his eyes. "Yes, last night, as I went to bed. And you," he paused, looking uncomfortable, "you _squeezed_ me, my middle."

Yao stared at Ivan and frowned. He said what? What was he dreaming about last night, he rarely talked in his sleep anymore! And Yao grabbed Ivan's middle? Of _course_ he did; he _loved_ Ivan's middle! (Just now, in fact, as he thought about doing it in his sleep, he sank to his knees and buried his face in Ivan's stomach.) Yao loved to snake his arms around his big cuddly Russian, even if he couldn't really reach all the way around. Though, he could really only do it when he was _sure_ Ivan was asleep. Yao guessed he started hugging Ivan in his _own_ sleep. Oops. Did Ivan really not know how much Yao loved it - and _him_?!

Yao opened his eyes and kissed the strip of skin showing where Ivan's shirt didn't quite reach his boxers. He looked up and smiled at Ivan's bewildered expression and blushing face. "Vanya," he began, thinking of all the large, lavish meals he'd made for his _darling_, _his Vanya_, "I was probably dreaming. About - I don't know - Alfred sitting on me, or something stupid like that. It doesn't matter."

"But then -"

"Shh." Yao pushed himself forward and up to press his lips to Ivan's, giving him a comforting kiss, shutting him up, and - hopefully - alleviating his worries. As they kissed, Yao pushed his hands up Ivan's shirt. He splayed his hands across Ivan's soft stomach, squeezing and pinching softly as the kiss went on. It was time he knew. Breaking the kiss, he asked, "Would I make such a big breakfast if I wanted you to lose weight?"

"But, but you like to eat -"

"Not as much as you. And you know I hate wasting food."

"But -"

"Shh." Ignoring Ivan's toast, Yao reached for the plate of blini and brought it closer. "You should eat. Breakfast is important. You shouldn't need to go hungry."

Ivan looked unsure, but he ate. He ate until his boxers were tight, his stomach hard, his shirt covered less, and the table void of wasted food.

Yao was not _quite_ done yet, though, and ushered Ivan upstairs to show him just _how much_ he adored his boyfriend's middle.


End file.
